Anonymous
by emmasvvan
Summary: Everyone who lived in Storybrooke knew that Emma Swan and Regina Mills have been at each other's throats since diapers. Yet when paired up randomly for an anonymous instant messaging program through the high school, will the fact that they don't know who it is make them see they have more in common than they originally thought? Swan Queen high school AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! So I obviously haven't published anything in a while, and this is my first try at a multi-chapter story since... probably about 2012. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did coming up with the idea and writing the first chapter because there's no better motivation than people loving what you write! This is also more than 2,000 words, which is a ****_lot _****for me (I usually can't even get to 1,000), so I have high hopes for this story. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time. Because if I did, Hook would've probably disappeared after the Neverland arc, but, ya know, that's just me.**

* * *

Emma silently watched the clock as the second hand ticked, ticked, ticked, slowly. But that still didn't change the fact that it was only the second period of the day and she was uncomfortably warm, like her entire body was made of stuffy cotton and all she really felt like doing at that moment was sleeping. The thought of doing so made her eyelids flutter softly. She wouldn't dare, though, because the teacher, Mrs. Nolan, would catch her in an instant with her sight of a hawk, and Emma would know _that_ better than anyone. The teacher happened to be her mother. It couldn't be helped, though, as this was the only AP English 4 class in Storybrooke High, because the school, like the town, wasn't that big to begin with, so Emma had been stuck with her mother as a teacher on numerous occasions. As if being with her at home wasn't bad enough, she had to see her overprotective and stern mother _at_ school and not just before and after it.

"Emma!" she heard someone hiss, and snapped out of her daydreaming. It was Ruby, probably her best and closest friend in the town, with legs taking up half of her 5'7 figure, the fashion sense of a 12 year old with free roam at Hot Topic, and fading, but still almost painful if you stared too long, cherry streaks in her dark brown hair. Emma glanced at her, seeing Ruby waggling a pointer finger towards the front of the classroom. She followed its direction to see her mother glaring at her with a hand on her hip, her eyes slightly creased in frustration.

"Emma?" questioned her mom. "Would you mind telling me what I just asked you?"

"Hmm?" Emma said, no guilt present in her tone. "I didn't hear. Could you repeat it?"

"You probably couldn't hear because you were practically asleep," a voice mused behind her. The peripherals of Emma's vision slowly started to turn red as she slammed her hands on the desk and stood up like a rod (good thing this classroom was full of the desks that _weren't _connected to the chairs) and whipped her head around to see _her, _wearing a look so smug Emma wished she could rip it off.

Regina Mills had been the #1 on Emma's hit list since they were in daycare when Regina had taken the last carton of apple juice and packet of animal crackers. 3 year old Emma, enraged by the fact that she couldn't enjoy her afternoon snack, was not mad at the fact that the daycare center was about as good as counting as most of its residents when it came to how many snacks needed to be provided. She was obviously mad at the kid who took her chance at getting a snack in the first place. She had pushed Regina into a pile of big, Lego-styled blocks, resulting in a sprained wrist, a badly split upper lip, and a very close call to Regina's mother, Cora Mills, suing the daycare and Emma's parents. Almost 15 years later, Regina Mills was the head of the student council, at the top of the pyramid for the cheerleaders, and in Emma's book, a Grade-A Bitch with a capital "B".

Emma grabbed the pencil she was pretending to write notes with on and pointed it in Regina's direction, and expression of fury on her face. "Don't make me shove this up your sorry excuse of an a-"

"Girls!" shouted Mrs. Nolan. "Can't we please have one day where you two don't argue?"

"Tell that to Miss Swan," supplied Regina. _Seriously? Miss Swan? Was she born in the 1800's?_

Emma decided to do the most logical thing her fury-hazed mind could think of, and dropped the pencil, ignoring it as it rolled off the desk and onto the floor. She marched over to Regina's desk which was a few students back, grabbed the collar of her shirt so Regina would be required to stand up, and gave her a right hook directly onto her cheek, which caused Regina to instinctively push Emma out of the way and into a bookcase. Ruby got out of her desk to help Emma up, biting her tongue to lash at her friend for such stupidity.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Nolan was pressing the call button for the office and sighing. Emma was not getting out of a grounding this time.

* * *

Emma slumped back into the chair in the office, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Regina. Regina glared back just as hard, yet seemed to look more regal doing it, even with an ice pack on the starting-to-form and puffy bruise on her cheek. Emma stuck her tongue out and brown eyes narrowed as a response.

A shut of the door with blinds rattling at the sudden movement indicated that the principal, Mr. Gold, had come in.

"Well?" rasped the aging man, primly sat in his chair, leaning forward slight, his fingers overlapping and his hands resting on his desk like any cliche high school principal would do. "I would ask for you to explain but I feel like just giving you both detention Friday afternoon would be a lot easier." Emma bit back a retort. She and Regina had probably been in this office more times together, and because of each other, more times than there were stars in the sky.

"She started it," Emma mumbled, loud enough for Regina to hear but quiet enough so that Mr. Gold didn't.

"Sorry, what?" asked Regina, her voice projecting and full of obviously fake innocence just so she could point out Emma said something she didn't like.

"I _said_ you started it," said Emma, louder this time, her emerald eyes boring right into Regina's soul. That would be, if she had one.

"I did _not_. Maybe if you weren't sleeping in class this wouldn't have happened." Regina's voice started to raise, and she switched hands on her ice pack. _As if we didn't know she had that already, _Emma thought angrily. _She seems to forget she also pushed me into a bookcase. _Her sore back agreed with her, and she huffed.

"For the last time, I wasn't slee-!" Emma was interrupted by Gold, and even though he only spoke at a normal talking level, Emma may be stupid, but not stupid to speak over him. That was like signing your death wish.

"Now," Gold sighed. "You two fight so often it doesn't even matter who starts it anymore. I'm going with my original plan. Friday afternoon you both will be in detention. If not, I will call your parents, which I'm sure is not what you want. Now please," Mr. Gold unfolded his hands and swiped one hand into the ash-colored bangs away from his face, his other sticking out to check his watch. "Third period started about fifteen minutes ago. Assure me you can get there in one piece and with no injuries to either of you. Am I right?"

"You're right," and "Yes sir," were muttered. Emma got up, jamming her fists into her navy blue hoodie pockets and walking towards the door, only to feel her shoulder bump the frame of the door to exit the office. She glanced over slightly to the left to see Regina mirror her actions and look at her, also.

_I can't argue. I can't argue. Not right now, at least…. _An idea popped into Emma's head. _If I can't argue, being a smartass is the second-best thing, right? _

"Please," said Emma backing out of the doorway and making a gesture for Regina. "Annoying cripple first."

Regina, narrowing her eyes, strutted out of the office, deciding to get out of there before Emma wasn't the only one giving blows to the cheek.

* * *

The rest of Emma's day wasn't that interesting, other than maybe Graham spewing Dr. Pepper out of his nose during lunch and squealing like a pig because of the carbonation burning his nasal cavities. Sure, she had Regina in two classes after that, but the teachers always made sure to seat them on opposite sides of the room, which was one of the maybe two or three perks of living in such a small town, and decided to ignore Regina for once. Still, her actions earlier today caused the car ride home with her mother feel more awkward when Mary Margaret had found a used condom in her older brother August's room (it had been extremely awkward for him but Emma personally found it hilarious). Emma stared out the passenger window, softly tapping her converse on the carpet. The only way she could've looked more innocent was if she had been whistling a tune, and she almost felt like doing it.

Her mother cut the uncomfortable silence and asked, "So… how was your day?" as if she already didn't know most of the answer.

"Mom," Emma huffed. "Cut to the chase."

"Well," she started. "No video games for two weeks." Emma felt like complaining but knew the sentence would just be longer, so she kept her mouth shut. Noticing her glum expression, her mother continued, "Hey, you're lucky I'm still letting you be in the fall play." Emma realized what that meant and nodded gratefully, the look on her face wiped off.

Emma absolutely _loved _the theater. In drama class since 6th grade when she could take it, Emma had done everything from those weird middle school musicals that were questionably published to Shakespeare. If Storybrooke had actually had a theater community, Emma would've been in it. She was even thinking about starting something like a theater community after her senior year of high school because she wanted other kids to experience the rush she did when on the stage. She was just lucky her mother wasn't absolutely evil enough to take that away from her and she knew it, so she didn't want to take advantage of it. She waited for her mom to continue.

"Also…" Mary Margaret's voice trailed off, almost in a peculiar way. _Uh oh._ Last time her voice did that while talking about Emma's punishment she was forced to go to her mother's weekly Saturday yoga group with her for two months. Emma will never forget how Archie, the town therapist, looked in yoga pants as he did the downward dog, and she almost shuddered just thinking about it.

"Also… what?" Emma braced for it.

"There's this fundraiser-type thing the school is doing. I'd like for you to sign up for it tomorrow." Emma made a face. "Oh shush, it's an instant messaging-kind of program. It's not that bad. You get to be anonymous, and you're randomly paired up with someone else in the school. You talk about your favorite things, your hobbies, stuff like that. It's a social project the school wants to work on. And…" Mary Margaret lowered her voice as if what she was about to say was vital government information. "It's really only happening because if it goes well, there's a chance of the school's budget being raised."

"So you want me to sign up for this 'anonymous pen pal' type thing because the school will get more money?" asked Emma as they pulled into the driveway, the deep rumbling of the garage door opening as the button clipped to the car's sun visor over her mother's head was pressed.

"Yep!" Mary Margaret gave a cheeky grin, twisting and pulling the keys out of the ignition, and practically shutting the car door in her daughter's face, thus, ending the conversation.

Emma voiced a moan, more out of annoyance for her mom than the situation, and followed said mother inside, her mind instantly switching from school things and her punishment to what dinner would be that night.

* * *

"Dear, why is there a forming bruise on your cheek?" was the first question her mother asked when Regina got home from the student council meeting after school, making Regina feel a little bit… _disappointed_, maybe. It's not like she thought her mother would ask how she was doing or how her day was... and, well, her mother was about as frank as frank could get. She didn't sugarcoat, and it was something Regina had inherited from her.

"I tripped and caught the wall." Regina shrugged, the heavy and textbook-filled backpack on her shoulders bouncing slightly.

Cora Mills' lips flattened. "You don't seem _that _clumsy, darling."

"Of course I'm not, but that doesn't mean the oafs at school aren't," Regina covered up smoothly, showing no emotion that she was lying through her teeth in any way.

Her mother nodded, either accepting Regina's fib or not caring enough to know what really happened. "Well, I have a business dinner tonight. I figured you can fix your own dinner tonight, and there's many things to choose from in the fridge."

Regina nodded obediently, setting her backpack gently next to the leg of the coffee table, starting to unzip one of the larger pockets in the front to get her calculator.

"Oh, and Regina?"

Regina looked up, fingers pausing.

"There's a new program the school is trying out called "Instant Friendship" where students are paired up to anonymously write messages to another, and as the daughter of the woman who is the Director for the Board of Education in Storybrooke, I hope you will be one of the first to sign up for it?" Cora handed Regina a flyer explaining the program.

"Of course, Mother," answered Regina, resuming grabbing her homework from her backpack and setting it on the table.

"Okay." Cora smiled. "Have a nice night." And with that, her mother grabbed her waistcoat and left, shutting the door softly behind her.

Regina glanced and skimmed through the piece of paper in her hand, sighing. Another program her mother was forcing her to sign up for? As if she didn't have enough on her plate already. Oh, well. She set it down, cracking open her AP Calc textbook (a legitimate question: Why do math textbooks always have someone doing some type of sport on the cover? What made someone decide to connecting calculus with a woman skiing was a good idea?) and grabbed her long, black hair, putting it in a high ponytail like she did during cheerleading practice to keep it out of her face. She then took out a pencil, and started the long, stressful evening of what happens when you take 4 AP classes in one year.

* * *

**Instant Friendship, I know, totally lame, but let's pretend it's supposed to sound lame. But did you like it? If you did, reviewing would be pretty great! It's what keeps me running.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh my word. Over 50 follows and it was only the first chapter? I'm definitely not freaking out. Also, sorry this is a bit (a lot) late! I wrote the first bunch of it hours after releasing the first chapter, but school started last week and I have homework in three classes tonight. And I don't have creative writing as an elective like I did last year, so not as much time to write. Trying not to cry.**

**Disclaimer: In chapter 1.**

* * *

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Jesus Christ, whose decision was it to make alarms so loud? Emma felt like crying. Not that it mattered in the end. Her tears would disappear as soon as she got in the shower.

After being in scalding hot water and putting on a different variety of a graphic shirt, skinny jeans, and converse than yesterday, she grabbed her hoodie and zipped it up, shuffling down the stairs in hopes her mother was cooking breakfast. Alas, when she saw the box of Fruit Loops on the table and a bowl on her mat at the table, she muttered an "awww" and grabbed the carton of milk from the fridge.

Partway through her cereal, her mother came down, grabbing a Nature Valley bar from the pantry. She looked at Emma, pressing a finger to her lips and indicating with the unopened granola bar to the master bedroom. Emma nodded, understanding. Her dad, David, was one of the deputies from the Sheriff's department, and apparently had the short end of the stick with the graveyard shift last night. She finished her breakfast and put her dishes in the sink as silently as she could, but that didn't stop the bowl from losing its balance and clattering in the sink. Emma jumped at the sudden noise and froze as her mother looked at her with wide, baby blue eyes.

"Sorry!" she mouthed. Her mother relaxed as the seconds went by and there was no noise announcing that her dad had woken up. Not that Emma had worried about it all that much, there could be a zombie apocalypse outside and her dad would still be snoring as loud as a dumpster truck. Emma turned slightly pink from embarrassment, and not wanting to cause any more trouble or loud noises, went back upstairs to get her backpack. Probably didn't want to forget that. She had luckily had barely any homework last night, as her only really tough class was AP English, but she could always ask her mother something if she was stuck on a tricky question.

Probably the only benefit to having your mom as your teacher.

And, oh! She obviously needed her contacts. Seeing clearly was nice. She went to the bathroom to get her contacts case, only to see the counter empty. She was positive that when she took her contacts out last night before bed, it had been in the bathroom. Where the heck were they?

Emma tiptoed about halfway down the staircase. "Moooooom," she stage whispered.

Mary Margaret appeared from the kitchen, her half-eaten breakfast in hand. "Whaaaaaat?" she mocked back.

"Have you seen my contacts?" Emma kept her voice quiet.

Mary Margaret 'hmmed' softly, but then said, "Nope, sorry honey. Just wear your glasses today, alright?"

Emma's expression turned to one that you got when you ate a lemon. "Do I have to?"

Her mother raised an eyebrow, and Emma knew her answer. She sighed overdramatically, going back upstairs to her bedside table, opening the first drawer and opening her rarely-used glasses case. Her glasses looked like the ones you got to watch a 3D movie and looked incredibly hipster, something her 8th grade self had thought was cool at the time. She just wanted to go back 4 years and slap some sense into that child. Slipping them on, she blinked, getting used to the new crispness. She was as close to getting without being legally blind without her contacts in. When Emma had first taken the eye test at the age of 5, the doctor had instantly known she'd needed glasses when he asked her to read the poster and her reply had been, "There's a poster? Where?". She went back downstairs to see her mom waiting for her so they could leave.

As they got into the car, Mary Margaret reminded Emma, "Sign up for the program today, sweetie."

Emma moaned.

"Also, if you have another violent outburst, Mr. Gold told me he would have no other choice but to suspend you."

Emma moaned louder. "I couldn't help it! She had those beady little eyes, asking me to punch her. 'Emma,' they had pleaded. 'Please, I'm so annoying. Put me out of my misery!'"

Mary Margaret sighed. "It doesn't matter. Violence is never the answer."

"But what if the question is 'What's never the answer?'" Emma smirked. Her mother glared at her, and she looked down in defeat. "Fine, fine, I'll stop."

The ride from home to the school was only about five minutes, but in November, neither Emma or Mary Margaret wanted to walk in such weather, unless they wanted to feel like a human igloo for several, painstakingly long minutes. Or, more like, Mary Margaret would prepare for that day of school cold and Emma would splay herself across the heating vent in the teacher's lounge and take a nap as if she were a cat. She did that on most days, anyway. Seeing as Emma had a terrible habit of either not setting her alarm or going back to sleep if not watched by her mother, Mary Margaret made Emma wake up an hour earlier than usual and bring her to the school, because she didn't want Emma to be late. Emma usually napped in the library if Ms. French, the young librarian, was in a good mood that day or went over to the diner to go see Ruby. Mary Margaret unlocked her classroom and placed her lesson planner on her desk.

Speak of the devil. "Hey mom?" Emma asked, not far behind. "Can I go to the diner?"

"Of course," Mary Margaret said. "Oh! Though on your way out, sign up for the anonymous messaging program. It's near the front, on the billboard. I forget the name, but I remember it being cheesy… even for me." She gave Emma a pen, knowing that she probably didn't have one for herself.

Emma took the pen and pointed it in her mother's direction. "I got this, Mom. Don't worry," she said, backing out of the classroom and pivoted, walking away. She glanced at the hallways that littered everything from posters about the upcoming senior pictures to the third grader's drawing of a hand turkey for Thanksgiving. Storybrooke's only school held everything from kindergartners to high schoolers, and while Emma thought that was about just the stupidest thing on the planet, there really wasn't much of a choice, and hey, at least there were separate wings for it.

This school was almost like a second home to her. Not because it gave her sentimental feelings or whatever, but because she's been here 7 hours a day 5 days a week for most of her life. She knew this building like the back of her hand, and maybe even better.

Passing by the office, she saw the cork board that held all the announcements and propaganda for the school, along with a small newspaper rack underneath it. Emma sighed through her nose, fiddling with the pen between her fingers, looking for the program her mom was talking about. Scanning the board, the bright WordArt letters of "Instant Friendship!" caught her eye.

Oh god. No wonder her mother— fairy tale and romance novels extraordinaire— was a bit embarrassed when saying the title was cheesy. It really _was. _

Emma was too lazy to read the description, knowing she still had to sign up anyway, and was thankful to see she wouldn't be the first one signing up. That was definitely a relief. She put her name on the list, sticking the pen in her back jeans pocket, and walking out into the cold November air. It was a good thing the walk to the diner only took about two minutes.

She didn't really pay attention to where she was doing, as her muscles had walked from the school to the diner so often it was almost like clockwork. Instead, she breathed out, mouth wide open, the crisp air making her breath visible. When she was younger, she liked to pretend she was a dragon. And by younger, she meant that she did it just yesterday.

Hearing the familiar ringing of the bell as she pulled the door open and the sound of "Emma, my main girl!" from Ruby, she sat on top of one of the many plush bar stools around the counter and started spinning around on it. Ruby strolled up to the counter, her elbows on the marble top and her face in her hands.

"What can I get ya?" she asked.

Emma creased her eyebrows in confusion. "You're not on shift, though."

Ruby straightened up, shrugging. "Yeah, but I can go in the kitchens whatever. You can't. Remember what happened last time?"

Emma hung her head, remembering how she almost caught the stove on fire, and that was answer enough. "I'll… have a cocoa. It's super cold outside."

"Coming right up!" Ruby shot her a grin, and disappeared into the kitchen. Emma tapped her fingers on the table to a random beat, waiting patiently. Before long, Ruby came back out, a steaming cup of hot chocolate and a spoon in hand. Emma took the mug in both hands, blowing gently on it to make sure the mountain of whipped cream didn't go everywhere. She had learned that lesson the hard way.

"Aww, you even remembered cinnamon," she cooed teasingly, noticing the brown sprinkles on top.

"It's not that hard to remember your weird eating habits," said Ruby. "I also noticed you had to break out the middle school glasses today."

Emma moaned, popping her tongue out to poke at the cream. "Don't remind me," she mumbled around her tongue. "I look terrible."

"You look like a dork," snickered Ruby.

"Suck one!" Emma retorted.

"I meant it as a _compliment,_" Ruby said, going back into the kitchen. Emma rolled her eyes. Ruby was probably getting herself a cocoa. And when Ruby got back, Emma had guessed right, and Ruby swerved around the counter to sit beside Emma. Emma took a sip of her drink, ignoring the scalding taste to her tongue.

"So," began Ruby, taking a finger to her whipped cream and eating it, "What did your mom do about you punching Regina?"

Emma's eyes slightly narrowed at the mention of Regina's name. "I got video games taken away."

"Boo."

"And I had to sign up for this weird messaging thing. Like, they pair two random people up and we just start messaging each other."

"Do you know who it is yet?" Ruby asked.

"I don't think I ever will. She said it's supposed to remain anonymous."

"Ah." Ruby nodded in understanding. "Well, you're lucky your mom didn't make you dump the fall play or something."

"Definitely," agreed Emma. "The stage manager and writer having to quit would not have turned out well." This year, for Emma's senior year, Mr. Hatter, the drama teacher, had let Emma write a script and perform it for the school's annual play each fall. Emma was pumped. She was almost done with her writing, letting Ruby in on every little detail and idea that popped into her thoughts.

"Ooh, crap," said Ruby, looking at the diner's clock. "We better head out. Wait for me to get my backpack, and give me your cocoa."

"But I'm not finished," Emma whined.

"Too bad," said Ruby, taking her mug for her. "You know what happened last time you spilled something onto Ms. Beryl's carpet."

Emma nodded, knowing all too well she had owed Ruby one after she persuaded the short-tempered nun to not make Emma scrub the bathrooms in the elementary's section of the school. Because, seriously, those stalls were more moldy and rancid than sour milk, and when six grade had come, Emma was glad to leave those disgusting restrooms forever.

"Fiiiiiine," Emma sighed, waiting for Ruby to grab her stuff and then they both left the diner, goosebumps rising on Emma's skin at the sudden cold. They both power walked to the school (because nothing less than being chased by a masked robber or maybe a group of shirtless men was worth running for) and as soon as they got in, Emma grabbed Ruby's wrist and led her to the teacher's lounge, grabbing her own backpack and getting warm next to the heater.

"Class starts in ten minutes," warned Ruby.

"Then we'll leave in nine," Emma said.

Ruby huffed in disagreement, but still decided to sit down next to Emma, who was still next to the heater. "Are you sure we should be in here? It's for teachers only."

"I'm a teacher's kid. I can be in here. And you're my friends, so you get access, also." Emma shrugged, as if it was simple logic.

"Most of the teachers don't like you. I'm pretty sure they'd kick you out."

"Teachers don't hate me!"

"Oh yeah?" Ruby asked. "Name a teacher that doesn't." Emma was about to start when Ruby interrupted with a, "Oh, and your mom doesn't count."

Emma's face scrunched up in thought, and then she smirked. "Jefferson."

"Yeah, because you two are on a first name basis and he went to your mom's baby shower when she had you!"

"So?" said Emma. "You asked me to name one, and I did."

"Whatever," grumbled Ruby, knowing she had lost. "Let's get to Beryl's."

Emma let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Carry me."

Ruby gave her a look that implied hell would freeze first, and got up, walking out of the room. Emma followed her, bumping into her shoulder playfully when she caught up. She was really lucky to have such a great friend, and was happy that they shared 5 out their 7 classes senior year. They walked to their lockers together, and then, their first hour, which was History of Religions.

* * *

"Regina, honey, you haven't eaten your breakfast."

Regina grunted as a response.

"Excuse me?" was retorted, and, oh yeah, Regina was talking to her mother.

"Sorry, mother," she spoke instantly. "I'm just waking up. I meant to say I'm not all that hungry, and I'll grab a granola bar on the way to school. I need to pack my homework up."

"Okay," her mother said, and Regina took that as a sign that she was allowed to leave the table, putting her barely touched cereal in the garbage and her bowl in the sink, going into her room to get her textbooks. She had two she had to put in her backpack yesterday, and just the thought of having to carry it back to school made Regina's back protest. She would be surprised if she didn't end up a hunchback (which she wouldn't, not with her mother). She glanced at her alarm clock, seeing she had just about half an hour before school started. Oh, well. She'd get there early. Regina didn't like being alone in the house with her mother, which was most of the time now that her father was gone. Regina sighed, padding out of her room, projecting her voice so that her mother would hear her, "I'm leaving! Love you!" from the room over.

"Don't forget to sign up!" was her mother's reply.

Regina mentally cursed, because she forgot about that dumb program and because the frigid air made her nose hurt. She got into her Mercedes, last year's birthday present, and drove the three minutes it took to get to the school. Usually she didn't drive to school, but it was cold and she decided it was best.

Regina usually got to school early to break free of the awkward relationship she and her mother had shared ever since her father died of a heart attack freshman year. Cora knew Regina had liked her father better, and Regina knew that her mother knew, except neither of them spoke about it. Ever. And since neither of them liked to talk about their feelings, and their relationship was now strained to say the least, Regina always went to the library around twenty minutes before school started every weekday so she didn't have to deal with it.

Before that, though, Regina went to the announcements board and signed up for the terribly-titled "Instant Friendship!", already knowing the details from the paper her mother gave to last night. She then went to the library, appreciating the scent of paper and ink as she walked in. Ms. French was a great librarian, especially considering her age. Regina remembered her being a senior when she was just starting high school. And then there was also the fact that she was one of the few in Storybrooke who weren't born here and lived in this sleepy town by choice, and it was obvious by her strong Australian accent.

"Good morning, Regina," the librarian's familiar voice greeted as Regina browsed the fiction section, looking for something interesting.

"Good morning, Ms. French," Regina replied, slightly thumbing over the laminated spines of the countless shelved books.

The other young woman sighed, the sigh full of playfullness. "Each time I speak to you I ask you to call me Belle, and every time you still call me Ms. French."

"It would be rude to call you by your first name, as you are a working faculty member and I'm a student," Regina said, choosing a book that looked good enough and placed it on the counter for check out, right in front of Ms. French.

The librarian grinned, rolling her eyes and scanning Regina's book, and then handing it back. "Okay then, you have a good day."

Regina gave her a small, genuine smile, and Belle knew that it was extremely rare for someone to receive something like that from the high school student, and returned it with her own.

Regina glanced at one of the many clocks scattered around the school, seeing she had a good five minutes before the first period. Shuffling through the others in the hallway, Regina reached her History of Religions class with about two minutes to spare. The curiosity that she got when she saw a small line formed at the doorway was soon diminished when she saw the teacher, Ms. Beryl, handing out slips of paper and announcing a new seating chart. Regina sighed, disappointed, as she sat by her friend Kathryn in that class and there was a small chance they would be seated together again, unless pure luck was on her side, and that just didn't happen. Glancing at the written "11" on her square, she let her eyes make their way around the classroom until she saw the same number on another desk, and made her way to it, setting her messenger bag next to the leg.

Chatter soon became louder as more students came into the classroom, and as she felt a huge thump from the desk across from her, not looking up from gathering her supplies for the class, said, "Can you please not fall onto your seat so roughly? It shook my desk."

"I can do what I want," a voice said, full of anger that came from more than just Regina chastising them for slamming into their seat.

She looked up to see the face of Emma Swan.

* * *

**Ooh, a cliffhanger! For once, I'm the one writing it, and not reading it. Tell me what you think! :)**


End file.
